Me: But what if something’s wrong with him? The feathers make him look like he’s rabid. Is there such thing as rabid goose syndrome? Is this something we have to worry about? Or maybe he’s biding his time until we get closer to the lake and he can box us in and shoo us to our untimely demise. We’re much weaker in the water.

Jason: No, I don’t think geese can have rabies.

Me: Ok, because having a flock of rabid geese chasing us through the park to the car is the last thing I want right now. Those squirrels over there are huge and menacing. They probably team up with the geese to take down passers-by and mug them. I can see that big fat brown one giving me the side eye. Thug. And there’s goose shit everywhere and Henry lunges for it every chance he gets. We would have to abandon Wookie to save ourselves. And Henry too. We’d never make it out otherwise.

Henry grabs a huge mouthful of goose poop and gleefully throws it into the air

Me: See? Lets go back to the car before the goose apocalypse starts.

Jason: Huh. Well, for Henry goose poop is probably a delicacy. You know how much he likes horse shit. “Feces a la vert.” It’s more French than French.